Broken Bride (Belaya Bratva 2)

CHAPTER 18

Naomi

I felt Gavril stiffen, though his fingers softly massaged my head, wondering what sort of tale he could tell me that would be worse than what I had just shared with him. It felt good to get it off my chest, to finally attempt to explain to my husband why I struggled to trust him. Jon wasn’t going to give up, and I wasn’t sure how far Gavril would let it go before he took the matter into his own hands.

For once, I was glad that my husband was bloodthirsty. Maybe he could be the one to end this nightmare for me, but I wasn’t about to ask anything of Gavril.

All I wanted was to hear this story he was so worried about.

“Her name was Katya,” he started, his voice hoarse as if he was reliving the memory as I had earlier. “She found me at a party, and I thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman in my entire life.”

A small bit of jealousy flared deep inside as I heard him speak about her almost reverently. I imagined he had never spoken about another woman in that manner since, and it made my heart hurt to think that she was the start of Gavril’s downfall, ruining him for all other women that would follow.

“I was eighteen,” he continued, resting his chin on my head. “And my mother had just given me control of my father’s legacy. I thought I was untouchable and that everyone owed me something.” Gavril drew in a deep breath. “Katya fed my ego. And like a fool, I swallowed every bit of what she gave.”

I felt his anger rise up and I placed my hand on his abdomen, finding an opening in his dress shirt so that I could touch his bare skin. Whatever he was going to tell me was very painful for him, and I wanted to offer him the comfort that he clearly needed.

“She was in my bed the first night,” Gavril said after a moment. “I was naïve, and she offered her body to me and gave me everything I had dreamed of.” He chuckled darkly. “She called me pakhan in bed, said I could use her in any way that I wanted. That I could take her however I wanted.”

I sucked in a breath, remembering when he had told me he didn’t want me to call him by his title. No wonder he had reacted in such a way!

“That first week, we were inseparable. She was witty and even laughed at my own feeble attempts to impress her.” His fingers brushed my arm. “I was still young and stupid, hotheaded, and quick to react without thinking. My mother told me I was nothing like my father. My father was rational, not quick to react to anything. But me? I went in with all guns blazing.

“I didn’t listen to Mother.” He snorted. “She hated Katya, saw right through her and what she was trying to accomplish. But I just told her that she was pining for her lost love by trying to ruin mine.”

I thought back to when we were in Russia and the clear animosity between son and mother. Was Katya the start of that animosity? Had his mother told him whatever Katya was up to and Gavril was so lost in his love for her that he had ignored her? I couldn’t even begin to imagine that Gavril. He was all hardness, all unfeeling, but the man he was describing was the complete opposite, and a part of me wished I had met him then.

“I trusted her,” he said after a moment, his voice growing hard. “She seemed curious about what my operations were, how I was choosing to run the Bratva and what I dealt with on a daily basis. For her, I was an open book. I would have told her the numbers to the family safe if she had asked me.”

“Why?” I blurted out. I wanted to know not because I thought I could be like her but because I wondered why he had trusted her so much.

“Because I was a fool.” Gavril let out a breath, teasing the hairs at my forehead. “I was eighteen, and she was the first person who seemed like she actually gave a shit. She never once let me feel like I was less than the fucking pakhan, and talking to her became easier. Now, looking back, I realize she was stroking my fucking ego so I would feed her more and more. When you’re an eighteen-year-old, all you ever think us that you need your ego, among other things, stroked.”

My cheeks heated as I thought of the last time I had stroked him, feeling his power under my fingertips. For a moment I had felt like I could control him in any way I wanted to.

That must have been how Katya felt.

“I shared too much,” Gavril said softly, regret in his voice. “I gave her things, insider knowledge of my Bratva. Whatever she asked for, I gave her without realizing that she didn’t have any intention of keeping it to herself.”

Now I understood why he kept his Bratva’s business close to himself. I was starting to see what sort of man had been molded by Katya’s hands or by her betrayal. If she hadn’t betrayed him, I wouldn’t be his wife, and he would be with the woman he loved.

My heart twisted at the thought. That was all that Gavril had been looking for: love.

“I thought she was the one,” Gavril replied, clearing his throat. “I gave her every fucking thing. Not just material things, but every part of me. She held my bleeding heart in her hands and could have been the wife to the most powerful pakhan in the world one day.”

His voice caught and I held him tighter, understanding his pain. It was the same way I had felt about Jon, how I thought that he was going to make me his wife one day and we would have the best life ever.

Gavril’s dream had been shattered just like mine. Maybe that was why we had been drawn to each other.

“I had decided to propose to her,” he continued. “One night it just came to me that I couldn’t fucking live without her. Without telling my mother or my sisters, I got one of our family rings and stuck it in my pocket for the right moment when I would ask her to be my partner.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I’d had no proposal from him. There had been no ramp up for his love to want to put me at his side, only the need to have his plan come together.

It hurt! Oh, it hurt that I would never be the person that Gavril would look at as his last breath, the very person that he would want to tie himself to for the rest of his days. He had experienced that once, and it had gone sideways for him.

I don’t think he would ever let his guard down again for a woman.

“That night,” he said. “She tried to kill me. Had I not seen the glint of the knife, I wouldn’t be here today.”

I gasped aloud. “Why?” I asked. “Why would she do something like that?”

Hadn’t she felt for him at all?

“Because she was an assassin.” Gavril let out a hollow laugh. “In the employ of Stanislav Orlov. He sent her to gain my trust and make me fall in love with her. So that when my guard was down, she would kill me.”

I couldn’t breathe, wondering what had gone through his mind when the woman he had just proposed to tried to kill him that same night.

Betrayed? Broken? Devastated.